Crazy Perfect

Today was really hard. I did fun things and spent time my favorite people but in each quiet moment, I was beset with dread. Mostly dread of the pain that the doctors said is inevitable. “We’ll give you morphine, but you will have bad days and you will have bad nights.” This scares me because I know I am a huge wimp. I am a coward when it comes to premeditated discomfort. I think I consciously inflict more pain on myself than is actually real when I know about it beforehand. I am also fettered with the dread of not being able to do much of anything for a while. At my friend's bonfire, I skipped from a group of boys throwing around a flaming tennis ball to go jump on a slack line as I realized I won’t be able to do that for a while. Or kick the soccer ball around with my friends, or jump off my young life leader’s dock, or go on a roller coaster. The impatient and fiery teenager inside of me keeps asking why this has to happen. I am healthy. I do not deserve this! But why not? God’s will is perfect and my petulance does not change that. Who He is surmounts all doubt.

This concept of faith has been on my mind for a while. A few weeks ago, I was feeling distanced from His Love because I was questioning what was real. I felt too guilty to be in His presence and I experienced again what it was like to not allow Jesus into my heart. But to my desperate and thankful surprise, this current health situation has worked to realize my faith. Sure, I have doubt and fear in all of this. But it’s like I’m just raising my eyebrows at Jesus, ‘I don’t know what crazy plans you have,’ Crazy perfect. I think people feel like doubt is a huge taboo in Christianity. But doubt is a natural facet of our humanity. 

During the period when I was confused and questioning Who God is, I felt guilty for allowing anything to eclipse my faith. That guilt turned into separation between me and my Creator. But a very wise friend of mine told me something along the lines of, “That’s okay, pursue questions, but hold on. Hold on to what is in your heart. You’ll be happy you did.” And as I continue learning, I am so happy I did. That is the beauty of faith; that it is found in the doubt. That faith is by faith, not by sight. It is a most valuable gift possessed by the willing-hearted. And as I walk through something too difficult to handle myself, I am thankful that God is so very full of grace. I am thankful that God loves all of us “of little faith.”

What I am listening to:

"Mary Jane's Last Dance" -Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

"Tenuousness" -Andrew Bird 

"He replied, "Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." Matthew 17:20

Gut Check

Today, my surgeon drew two diagrams on the waxy paper that covers doctor’s office beds. One depicted what my insides look like now, and the other depicted what they will look like after removing the mass. I can’t lie, I had to hold back tears. It was the first time I did not wear a confident smile while at the hospital. The first time I didn’t speak with the assurance of something bigger than myself. The first time I was scared. I could only manage to nod my head as my eyes widened. It reminded me of what the girl from the Fourth Kind must have endured while being probed by aliens. In all honesty, the garish imagery the doctor used to describe this extensive procedure wanted to make me throw up. For the first time since this all started, I, Anna, was not strong enough to handle it. Gut check number one: From where do I draw my strength?

After I was told the invasive logistics of my surgery, I was taken to a nurse who unleashed a barrage of paperwork upon me. In the midst of signing here and initialing there, the sweet nurse brought up a living will. An advance directive standard for surgical operations in case a decision needs to be made when I am not of the mind to make it. “Most 18 year olds don’t have to worry about this sort of thing,” she added sympathetically. Here, any facade of internal calmness I had managed to project had vanished. The fear that I had experienced only moments ago had now turned into anger. I was able to maintain a degree of decorum for my surroundings but I was pissed. This was the first time I allowed myself to be angry at the fact that I was being forced to deal with this. That what was supposed to be the best summer of my life before starting college was being taken from me. Any idea of a good time, for me, includes some sort of physical activity and the outdoors, hiking, swimming in the ocean, playing sports, etc., all things that I won’t be able to do at full speed until at least September. Gut check number two: From what do I find my joy?

The last place I went before leaving the hospital was the anesthetics area. I walked into the office of an awkward doctor told about the anesthesia that they would use throughout the course of the eight hour surgery. He talked about multiple IVs and gases and even a catheter in my back(ew). I had regained my solemn demeanor just as the doctor cracked a joke about old people who wake up from anesthesia. I was surprised to find myself laughing like everything was totally fine. “Have a good weekend,” he said, “and don’t worry about the stuff that’s going to happen here.” I was shocked at how shocking that was to hear. I was shocked that doctor had succeeded in making me laugh. I was shocked that it was okay to not be consumed by such a serious situation. Gut check number three: What grants me peace in difficulty?

After my appointment, a friend told me to read Daniel 4 about Nebuchadnezzar’s prophetic dream. When the dream came true and he lost all his kingdom, Nebuchadnezzar “praised the Most High” for restoring his sanity. For giving him consciousness of What really was.

The answer to the previous three questions is Jesus. However, I often go along my Christian way finding happiness and contentment in what I do and what I have. I read my bible every night to fulfill my “Christian duties.” I never allow myself to be totally wrecked and taken by the power of the Cross because in my privileged, comfortable life, I have never been forced to. I know there are much, much worse things that could happen to me, but this situation in which I feel totally helpless is teaching me more about what life with Jesus is than years of “following Jesus” by today’s standards. It is teaching me that discipleship is much more than going to a bible study or singing in church. With faith in trying times, I am not called to live in fear of anything. I am not forced to be angry at life. I am not subject to tempests and turbulence. No, we are promised, in these times, a Rock on which to find foundation. We are given the chance to revel in Something much higher than ourselves.

What I am listening to:

"Lovely Day" -Bill Withers

"River City Lights" -Griffin House

"Now, I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise and exalt and glorify the King of Heaven, because everything He does is right and all His ways are just." Daniel 4:37

In All These Things

I’ve already beaten it. This sickness. I still have to go through surgery and recovery and that might suck a little. But I have already beaten this thing because Jesus is still praised and Jesus is still good.

A few months ago, I saw Josh Garrels perform and he said something that has stuck with me ever since. We are not meant to walk through life alone. We are especially not meant to face trials alone. We were created for relationships. Most importantly with God, but with our brothers and sisters, as well. We were created to walk hand in hand, kindred by the most compelling of loves. Because when we walk together in faith, we become “more than conquerors” of trouble and hardship.

Last night, about 15 people gathered and worshipped in the presence of the Holy Spirit. I didn’t know what it would look like, but I felt the need to fill up my living room for Him. By six o’clock, everybody who was supposed to be there, was, praising the Lord in truth and joy. It could have been awkward because I’ve never held anything like that before but two of our awesome Young Life leaders, Jess and Scott, lead it as a time of song and prayer and just being with our sweet Savior. People read scripture and talked about what was on their hearts and as a community, we shared life. It was beautiful, it was revolutionary, it was like the days of old. And that’s why I’ve beaten it. Why we are conquering something bigger than a mass in my body. We are conquering death. 

What I am listening to:

anything by Josh Garrels including this

"Conquerors" -Man In The Ring

If you're from around here, come to my house next Sunday at six. I think my friend and I are going to lead a time of worship again! (Mike, this is me asking you to play guitar)

"No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:37-39

Setting

My emotions have been all over the place. Up and down, left and right, everywhere. But one thing they’ve been is real and deep and founded in an everlasting Joy. Cancer is a hidden blessing. I know this sounds crazy, but hear me out. I would never have wanted this to happen to me and I pray that this disease will be entirely eradicated from the human race because I know the gravity of cancer and the severity of its damage. However, in the short amount of time I’ve known about this tumor, I have been convicted to live with more joy and love with more depth. I have been shown life in a radical new way that only proves the irresistible freedom of life with Christ.

A few nights ago, I went to an Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros concert. I don’t listen to them that much anymore, but I figured I might as well fit in as much fun as I can before July 2 (scheduled surgery date). However, I cannot explain how it was more than the most fun I’ve ever had at a show. I have never enjoyed the lights, energy, and performers at the NorVa so much, I have never enjoyed dancing like a little kid so much, I have never enjoyed being made fun of for said dancing so much, I have never enjoyed standing in a puddle of someone’s spilled beer so much, I have never enjoyed these trivial secularities oh so very much. And this is because I do not have to entrust my life to myself or anything else from this world. 

This cancer is something I have given up to a loving Father. And it has encouraged me to finally release my 

inhibitions (shout out Natasha Bedingfield) and live in the boundless freedom that Jesus calls us to. A captivating freedom that yields to none but Divinity Himself. My good friend said that it’s okay for me to feel bad for myself but, man, why should I? The relentless pursuit of the Holy Spirit after my heart has only set me free in this entire ordeal. While it’s true I would have never wanted this to happen, I know it has happened for a reason and I would never take it back. Christ saves my life every moment that I trust. I am finally alive and I could not be happier. 

 What I'm listening to:

 "You Are The Beauty(Live)" -Gungor

 "Glory Bound" -The Wailin' Jenny's                        

"So if the Son sets you free you will be free indeed." John 8:36

Counting It

It’s easy. It’s easy to glorify Love when I possess only the idea of this tumor. To write pretty words on the internet. But when my face is red and it feels like my body is physically trying to expel it through choking and vomiting, this is hard.

I yelled at my dad to go away when he was only knocking to see if I needed anything. “I hate you,” I whispered between heaves. Not my dad, but the sickness that is trying to drain me of energy, joy, and Light and replace them with indifference, heartache, and darkness. I don’t think this is a side effect of what is inside of me, probably a delayed reaction to the contrast fluid I got for my MRI yesterday. But my stomach is in the most pain I’ve ever experienced and the bump has hardened as it protrudes from under my left rib. When I feel it, it scares me and I forget that this is all okay because of Whose I am.

I sat down on my bathroom floor after I brushed my teeth and washed my face from all the throwing up. I got mad at myself for treating my dad that way when he was just trying to help. The reason trials are hard is because we are not conditioned by the world to “count it all joy.” But feel bad for ourselves and let rash emotions rule us. It is dangerously easy to even exalt ourselves in them. Look how brave I am, look at how well I deal with this, take pity on me. But I don’t think that is the point of trials. 

‘You can give up letting this be about something bigger than yourself, right now, it’s easy,’ I imagined Jesus’ voice in my head. What a waste it would be. What a waste of a gift not of this world. So I asked God what He wanted me to do before I absentmindedly wrote the word love on my fogged up mirror. Sin makes that very hard sometimes. I am still learning not to get frustrated when I cannot always do it on my own. I must remember to let Him take it when I get a new nurse who’s so nervous she almost pulls the IV out of my arm or when I’m violently sick and want to get angry with those closest to me. But most importantly I must remember to be thankful, so thankful when my dad brings me my favorite type of lunchable or a friend sends me kind words. So thankful for the littlest things that are the biggest manifestations of Jesus’ love. Through this situation, He is giving me the gift of learning this and for that I am so thankful.

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds.” James 1:2

New Things

I don’t really know where to start and this will probably be scattered but the past four days have been a blur of hospital rooms and needles. 

I went to the doctor a while back for chronic stomach issues that would not desist. When I got referred to a pediatrician, I also mentioned a bump in my stomach that I started noticing when I had mono in December. It seemed to be getting bigger and more noticeable so, to err on the side of caution, he ordered an ultrasound. About a week later, I was laying on the table having goo rubbed all over my stomach discussing, in great detail, my nurse’s herb garden. I was sent out and called into the ultrasound room three times before the doctor who'd been reading my results told my mother and I to go to the hospital for a CT scan. Maybe it was youthful naivete or subconscious denial, but I repressed any inkling that there could be something wrong with me. Later that night, the doctor called my mom saying that the CT scan confirmed a large mass either adjacent or attached to my pancreas. This could be a whole list of things, I told myself, no need to worry. 

I had a day to remain in blissful ignorance of whatever was inside of me. But at an appointment the next morning, a new doctor showed me all of my insides in the form of a CT scan. I gasped a thousand times inside when he pointed out the tumor located at the head of my pancreas. I will not pretend to understand half of what he proceeded to say after he referred to it as a solid pseudopapillary tumor. Due to its rarity and position, none of the surgeons at the pediatric hospital would operate on it. They referred me to Portsmouth Naval for what could potentially turn into a Whipple surgery that would result in the removal and reconstruction of some vital organs in my abdomen. After some discrepancy with our insurance provider over who would operate on me, I was angered and disheartened that I could not get the area’s most highly recommended surgeon for such a delicate and involved procedure. But I woke up early the next morning to go to the hospital and discuss a plan of action for my operation. I immediately felt at peace when I met the short, intense woman who would be operating on me. We talked for a while about the ins and outs of the procedure and what recovery would look like and the technical talk confused me, but the overwhelming and inexplicable peace I felt upon meeting her assured me that it was all part of the Plan.

This Plan does not coincide with my will but the Creator’s above. Trials hardly make sense and often cause our mortal hearts to question what is true. The doctor kept repeating, “This isn’t fair. You are young and healthy and bright, this is not fair.” But this situation only proves to me that Christ’s love is real and deep: more real and deep than anything this world has to offer. In the short amount of time we have known about the severity of this mass, I have already experienced moments as sweet and astounding as when I first fell in love with my Savior. His love is realized in the community that has been placed around me in Chesapeake and across the country. Trusting God in what has been laid before me, I pray to remain in spiritual communion. Jesus is not waiting to see if I’ll manage on my own, but is walking right beside me in love. I am thankful, not for this sickness, but the unique vantage point that it is providing of His sovereign power and benevolent grace. I will not give up on That which has never given up on me.

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." John 1:5